


Steady

by AdventTraitor



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: M/M, Sinja
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-12
Updated: 2015-11-12
Packaged: 2018-05-01 06:34:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5195807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdventTraitor/pseuds/AdventTraitor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moving from Sindria to Partevia took quite the toll on Ja'far, though it's more than just the change in routine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steady

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for after the time skip, chapter 284 and on I believe!! This is a little story I chose to write to take a break from my nanowrimo project, so I hope you enjoy. :3

The move from Sindria to Partevia was arduous on nearly everyone participating, whether they were excited or full of dread with the coming change.  Even with magic, the move itself still took several weeks for most to even arrive at their new place of residence, let alone settle in.  The vast majority stayed behind to continue running the country—its parliament, military and civilian divisions hardly changed at all, save for those who were in charge.

When Sinbad announced his intentions, Ja’far kept a straight face, willing himself to ignore the drop in his stomach.  Still, it was very difficult for him to accept the words “stepping down” coming from his king, even if he was only doing so to move on to something bigger than the country they had created together.

They had just barely started their new life in Partevia, and already it was a hundred times more hectic than what Ja’far dealt with in Sindria.  Governing a country of less than ten thousand was very much different from organizing the entirety of the world.  It didn’t help that their institution was a brand new one—Ja’far would have likened it to the founding of a new country, except that there were already established governments with differing ideals and customs that had to be dealt with.  Unification of the world was a much more difficult task than creating a tax code for a single country.

If it were only the enormity of the task before Ja’far, he would be able to handle it.  He could face a task head-on, find the solution and put it in place. 

The issue, he came to realize, was the sense of loss.

Ja’far stared blankly at the walls of his new room, just as bland and empty as the walls of his old room in the palace in Sindria.  Those walls, however, had held the scent of the sea, the sound of the tropical birds calling out at all times of day and night, the sight of the country he’d helped build with his own hands.  These walls…these walls were cold.  There was nothing but silence, and a single window that gave way to a city that was not his.

He never tried to talk Sinbad out of his abdication.  His own desires fell far below the needs of the many, after all.  He had promised himself to Sinbad—everything he was, for whatever the man might need. 

He just never thought there would be a day Sinbad would no longer need Sindria.

Slowly, with glassy eyes and a heavy heart, Ja’far moved to the dresser that held strange clothing—a new uniform, and civilian clothing as well.  No doubt Sinbad was behind the latter…or perhaps not; he’d not truly had a word beyond a scant few moments of business talk with the man since they’d arrived.  They’d both been so busy, Ja’far wondered if the change in venue wasn’t the beginning in a change in their relationship.

Their back and forth banter was the most shallow part of their relationship; authentic, but barely scratching the surface of loyalty and dedication and—yes, he could admit to himself in this moment of loneliness—love.  Disgruntled though he always acted, he always allowed the stolen kisses, the passing gropes, the stolen hours in the night when he was whisked away to the king’s chambers. 

Now, he kept half-expecting to see his king—no, not his king, not anymore—sneaking into his room, trying to be quiet but failing spectacularly.  A sluggish glance to the door proved that fantasy wrong, and the temperature dropped a few degrees.

Ja’far reached into the third drawer down, fishing underneath pristinely folded uniform shirts and trousers, to pull at a beige fabric that was quite out of place in his drawer, in this country.

Stepping backwards and dropping gracelessly onto his bed (it was too stiff, the sheets too scratchy) Ja'far pulled his parliamentary robes to his face, breathing in the last scent of Sindria he had left.  He didn’t cry—he didn’t have the energy to cry—but for the first time in many years, Ja’far wanted to.

Every emotion in his head, the heaviness in his stomach, the pressure pushing down on his chest—it was all borne of his own selfish desire.  He may have been in Partevia for a time when he was a child, but it had never been home.  Sinbad, he told himself, was his home, and to some degree that was true.  But Sindria…the country he’d help to build from the ground up, the country he’d seen grow from nine inhabitants to thousands, the country whose laws and codes he’d drafted himself…it was second only to Sinbad in his heart.

“Nice time for a break, eh?”

Ja’far jumped, looking over to a very real Sinbad leaning against the doorframe of his room, the door closed behind him.

 _So much for my powers of observation_ , Ja’far thought mildly.

“I suppose,” he answered softly, letting the robes fall from his hands to pool on his lap.  “Nice time for reminiscing.”

“So I see.”  Sinbad stepped forward cautiously, gauging Ja’far’s mood before sitting next to him, close enough their thighs and shoulders touched.  “I miss her too, you know,” he continued, jutting his chin at the robes on Ja’far’s legs.  After a few moments without response, Sinbad hefted a sigh and fell backwards, staring at the ceiling with a wistful look in his eyes.

“I know it’s been…busy,” he murmured, feeling about ten years older than he was.  Looking over to Ja’far, he saw the other hadn’t moved an inch.  “ _I’ve_ been busy.  _You’ve_ been busy.  At different times, with different things, in different places—always missing each other but for moments in hallways and between other people vying for our attention.”  He pushed himself up to his elbows, looking at Ja’far’s downcast expression.

“But right now, I’m here, with you, and no other responsibilities waiting for our attention or people tugging at our sleeves.”  He reached over and pulled at Ja’far’s sleeve with a playful smirk, pulling gently.  “Well…maybe just one.”

Ja’far let out a deep breath, acquiescing easily.  Sinbad pulled him over until Ja’far lay on top, his legs on either side of Sinbad’s hips.

“Things will never be the same, will they?”

Sinbad blinked, looking up at Ja’far’s melancholic expression.

“As I said when you asked me during Sindria’s foundation…no, they won’t.”  Sinbad watched Ja’far’s eyebrows furrow slightly, before he continued.  “But I believe I went on to say…change is the only way we move forward.  And it’s not always bad.”  Sinbad lifted his arm, brushing the backs of his fingers across the freckles on Ja’far’s cheekbone.  “I made time to see you because I could see the sadness in your eyes.  While I can’t promise all of my time to you alone…I _can_ promise that I will _always_ make time for you.  As much as I am able to.”

Ja’far bit the inside of his lip, refusing to let tears well in his eyes.  To keep them at bay, he swiftly lowered himself until his forehead touched Sinbad’s, their eyes closed as they shared the same breath.  Sinbad lifted his chin until their lips were barely touching.

“I know you hate to hear it,” he murmured lowly, moving against Ja’far’s mouth with every word, “but though it’s been difficult to show you lately…I do, truly, and with all my heart…I love you.”

Ja’far pressed forward, tangling his hands into what he could get at of Sinbad’s hair, his back arching and causing his hips to press forward into the other.  Sinbad grunted, hardly embarrassed by his already apparent arousal, letting his hands brush from Ja’far’s face to his shoulders, down his sides and to his hips, pulling him down as he thrust up.

Ja’far moaned into Sinbad’s mouth, taking the hint and rolling his hips in the lazy cadence set below him.  Sinbad had a way of taking clothes off that made it so Ja’far barely noticed, and only when the chill of the room raised goosebumps on his skin did he realize that his pants were on the floor and his shirt was being pushed from his shoulders.

Sinbad’s robes were different and unfamiliar, and Ja’far had a hard time finding the way they parted.  Sinbad bit gently at Ja’far’s lip, huffing with amusement.  His hands covered Ja’far’s, guiding them to the right places until they pulled the fabric apart.  Ja’far grabbed at Sinbad’s arousal, his hips bucking at the touch.  Ja’far was jolted with the movement, thinking for a moment Sinbad was going to roll them over, but he steadied Ja’far on top of him, flexing his hands on his hips as he rolled his own into Ja’far’s touch.

“Sin…” Ja’far gasped, lifting his head just enough for air.  “Is there…um,” he mumbled, his mind hazy with arousal.

“Course,” Sinbad grunted in reply, reaching one hand into the folds of his robes and pulling out a vial of oil he always kept on him while sailing.

Ja’far huffed, smirking despite himself.  “Why am I always so surprised?”

“For as long as we’ve known each other, I must wonder the same.”

Ja’far was _tight_ , which was to be expected after such a long time, but it took Sinbad aback all the same.  Once he felt Ja’far was prepared—as prepared as he could be—he pushed Ja’far up until he was perched over his hips, positioning himself to sink down onto his dripping cock.

“Take it in as deep as you want,” Sinbad groaned, watching Ja’far reach behind himself and feeling him grasp at his cock to keep it in position as he lowered himself.  Sinbad let his head fall back at the sensation, his hands tightening on Ja’far’s protruding hipbones.  “But go slow…slow tonight,” he breathed, the muscles in his legs and torso flexing as he resisted the urge to thrust up.

Ja’far moaned in response, his legs shaking with the effort to slide down slowly, the head already enough of a stretch to make him grimace.  Sinbad slid his hands down to grip at the underside of his thighs, taking some of his weight to make it easier.  Ja’far arched his back, leaning forward slightly and bracing his hands on Sinbad’s chest.

After a few minutes of working himself down as gently as he could, Ja’far was seated fully on his lover’s cock, his head lolling back on his neck at how full he felt, a sensation he always forgot how much he needed until it was there again.  Sinbad’s hands squeezed into his ass, drawing a moan from the man atop him, before he slid them down over his thighs, then up to the small hands still pressed against his chest, no doubt feeling the quick pounding of his heart.

Sinbad wrapped his hands around thin wrists, pushing up until he could lace their fingers together.  Ja’far’s chin dipped down until it was touching his own collarbone, sweat beading on his forehead around the crimson gem he wore—the closest proposal gift that Sinbad could have given him.

Ja’far took a deep breath before he opened his eyes, looking down at Sinbad and squeezing their fingers together.  Sinbad opened his mouth, maybe to say something, but stuttered out a groan instead when Ja’far rolled his hips gently, starting a pace that drew out heavy breaths, soft moans and hushed praises.

Sinbad’s amber eyes were lidded as he watched his lover ride him.  His hips rolled gently with the pace Ja’far set, slow but _deep_ , and the tight heat squeezing around his cock had him biting down on his own lip as his chest heaved.

“Sin…” Ja’far gasped between quiet moans, hips rocking steadily.  “Sin—yes, yes…”

“Beautiful,” Sinbad breathed, watching a bead of sweat trail down Ja’far’s neck to his chest, the muscles in his torso tensing and relaxing with every movement, the pure pleasure on his face—it was too much.

“Ja’far,” Sinbad grunted.  “Ja’far, I…”

“Yeah,” Ja’far moaned back, looking down at Sinbad’s face with hazy eyes.

Sinbad leaned his head back and started thrusting up with more force, squeezing Ja’far’s fingers as he felt the pressure building.  Ja’far came first, crying out and rolling his hips helplessly, eyes squeezed shut as he rode out the sensation.  Sinbad followed only moments later, the familiar clenching around him pushing him past his limit.

Ja’far slumped forward, Sinbad sluggishly rearranging them to rest comfortably on their sides facing one another.  He lifted a hand and pressed snowy bangs away from Ja’far’s closed eyes, his thumb rubbing heavy circles over pale skin and dark freckles.

“I do too, you know.”

Sinbad blinked, trying to make sense of Ja’far’s words.

“Love you, I mean.”

Even in the darkness, Sinbad could see the hint of a flush over his cheeks.  He smiled sleepily, nuzzling into his hair and moving until they were both comfortable enough for sleep.

“You’ve shown me nearly from the start.  I know it won’t change.”

Ja’far nodded against Sinbad’s chest, wrapping his arms comfortably around his back.

“Never.”


End file.
